


I Went Looking For Me

by Im_trash_bye, nineteenohtwo



Category: Andi Mack (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, Banter, First Kiss, First Meetings, M/M, Road Trips, Slow Burn, gays bein gay, trans!marty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-16 06:13:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19312267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Im_trash_bye/pseuds/Im_trash_bye, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nineteenohtwo/pseuds/nineteenohtwo
Summary: I’m going to take a road trip this summer,” he confessed. “I’m leaving the day after our grad ceremony.”“Where are you going?” Iris asked, clearly skeptical of whether or not he was going to follow through on his plans.“I don’t really know yet. Somewhere. I’m probably just gonna start driving and just… go, I guess.”





	I Went Looking For Me

**Author's Note:**

> hey my chaotic gays what is up its ya girl with another DAMN fic  
> anyway el and i have been working on this for more than a month so i hope y'all enjoy!

Cyrus.

Cyrus Goodman.

Cyrus Goodman was a lot of things, and he knew it. In fact, Cyrus Goodman knew everything about himself. He had one friend in his ex-girlfriend, Iris. He’s Jewish, he has brown hair and brown eyes. He’d be attending Princeton University in the fall. He extremely enjoyed documentaries, especially those housing dinosaurs and reptiles of all kinds.

Cyrus was gay.

He knew everything, and yet, somehow… The only thing he didn’t know was everything. He had no idea what lay around every corner he turned, it had started to eat away at him.

“Cyrus?”

“Hmm? Oh, sorry, daydreaming,” he explained sheepishly, looking up at Iris. “What were you saying?”

“That it’s the last day of school, Goodman. Like, literally, the last day of school. Keep your head in the game for another four hours, then you get to space out as much as you want.”

“It’s not really the last day of school, though, is it? I still have college after this.”

“You still have to handle the entire summer before then, though,” Iris pointed out. Cyrus nodded, resting his chin in his hand. “Still planning to hole up in your bedroom and read books for three months?”

“About that…”

“Hmm?”

“I’m going to take a road trip this summer,” he confessed. “I’m leaving the day after our grad ceremony.”

“Where are you going?” Iris asked, clearly skeptical of whether or not he was going to follow through on his plans.

“I don’t really know yet. Somewhere. I’m probably just gonna start driving and just… go, I guess.”

“...Okay, let’s start there. You might want to have a place in mind,” she chuckled, pulling her school planner out of her bag and flipping through hundreds of unused pages to the back. She slid a map of North America across the table, circling Shadyside, Iowa as she did. “Any ideas?”

“I’ll definitely stay in America- I don’t feel like dealing with border security,” he decided, chuckling as Iris crossed Canada and Mexico out on the map.

“Okay, west or east?” Cyrus didn’t hear her question- not really. He was focused on the map in front of him. His world was so much smaller than this, it resided in the boundaries of the circle Iris had scrawled around Shadyside.

“Sorry, what?”

“West or east?” Iris repeated, fondly rolling her eyes.

“I guess probably west, there’s a further distance to travel that way.”

“Fair enough. Do your parents know?”

“No, I’m telling them tonight. Accompanied by…” He paused, pulling out a thick piece of paper with his name scrawled across it in mildly distasteful font. “My having been named valedictorian.”

“Smooth. And if they say no…?”

“I did not plan that far ahead. I’ll probably just improv some huge speech about how every American teenager has to go on at least one great road trip in their young life.”

Cyrus never intended to live out that part of his plan, and yet here he was.

He’d pushed this as far back in his calendar as he could after his conversation with Iris, knowing full well what his parents were going to say.

Unfortunately, he’d been all too correct. As he stood in front of all four of his parents, already outfitted in his gown and valedictorian stole, clutching his cap to his chest, he was very aware of the looks on their faces.

“I know it’s completely crazy-”

“Crazy? Try insane,” Frank exclaimed.

“Come on, guys, every American teenager has to take at least one insane- crazy, if you will- road trip in their life. I just need to get away for a couple of months before I go off to Princeton. I’ll text and call you every day if you want. I’ll take photos of every hotel room I check into. I just have to do this for me.”

“I don’t actually hate the idea,” Norman admitted, glancing at his ex-wife nervously. To his surprise, however, she simply nodded.

“I’m completely sick at the idea of you getting hurt, but I trust you. I know you’ll call if you need help, and I think this might be good for you.”

“Really?” Cyrus asked skeptically.

“Of course, sweetie. You’ve worked obscenely hard since kindergarten, and you got named valedictorian, kiddo. You’re allowed to have a little fun.” Cyrus grinned, tightly hugging his mom and kissing her on the cheek. He was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder as Iris tugged him toward the door.

“Cy, we gotta go,” she said. “Metcalf’s gonna start speaking and you’ll have to give your speech.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, waving to his parents and chasing after her. Iris was wearing four-inch heels and still managed to run all the way to their seats.

The ceremony was a sea of navy blue polyester and black graduation caps, many decorated to fit the student. He caught his step-mother’s eye, smiling as he pulled his cap on and pulled his speech out of his pocket.

“Who the hell taught you to run in heels like that?” he asked, glancing over his speech one last time.

“Life,” she responded dryly, grinning at her best friend and pointing to Dr. Metcalf taking the stage. Cyrus turned to face the stage, zoning out mildly as he droned on and on about the various achievements of the class of 2023. He snapped out of his daydreaming at the mention of his name, taking Metcalf leaving the stage as his cue to start toward it.

“Dr. Metcalf, teachers, family, fellow students, congratulations. Though many of us never believed it to be possible, we are here today as Grant High School graduates. We’ve spent years counting down the days, ticking down the hours, and biding our time until this day arrived. Personally, I have found the last four years to be some of the hardest, and most rewarding, years of my life. I stand here in front of you the product of years of hard work, yes, but more importantly, I am here today due entirely to the remarkable amount of love and support I have received from the five most important people in my life and all of my incredible teachers here at Grant.

“My parents and step-parents are the sole reason I am here. From their steadfast loving support and hundreds of nights spent planning for the future to their endless supply of books, music, and role models always available to me, I have always known that this set of parents will never fail to take my side and stand behind me. My best friend, Iris Goodall, has stood next to me since our 8th-grade year, and I cannot wait to see all of the incredible things she will inevitably come to accomplish in life.

“This school has taught us all so much about falling in and out of love, cherishing our friends, and moving on. However, we never imagined it’d be Grant High School we’d be moving on from. I’ve loved attending this school so incredibly much for these four years. Therefore, Dr. Metcalf, if you ever need a school guidance counselor, I trust you know where to find me,” he joked, smiling at the principal. “Okay, so I’m going to wrap this up now. As a final statement, I’d like to encourage you to go forward and do incredible things in life. Move on from your past, but use it as a catalyst to push forth and change the world. Thank you.”

He exited the stage with a wink at Iris and a smile to his crying parents, before taking his place next to his best friend.

“Good job,” she whispered, squeezing his hand as Dr. Metcalf took the stage to start calling names. After a sea of alarmingly similar last names A-F, the vice principal gestured for row a few ahead of him to start moving toward the stage.

“Alright G’s, you’re on the move,” she exclaimed, stepping to the side as Dr. Metcalf called for Jenny Gabbard. Before long, Cyrus heard a familiar name at a last.

“Iris Goodall,” Metcalf called, handing her a diploma holder with a smile.

Iris stuck her tongue out at Cyrus in celebration as she crossed the stage. Cyrus’s ears filled with static as he watched Dr. Metcalf take a deep breath before addressing him. He could do this. He was excited. Not at all nervous. Nope. Not a bone in his body was nervous. Not even his pinky was-

“Cyrus Goodman.”

***

Cyrus closed the car door behind him, hand resting on the wheel as he breathed in and out.

“I got this,” he whispered to himself, waving one last time to his parents and Iris before pulling out of the driveway. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the five greatest people in his life disappeared around a corner. “Here’s to hoping I write the Great American Novel.”

He stopped for gas and food less than half an hour later, realizing he’d forgotten to before he left Shadyside and praying silently that the gas prices wouldn’t be obscene. He stepped into the building to pay, only to immediately walk into a girl about his age as he beelined toward the candy aisles.

“I’m so sorry,” he squeaked, turning to help her up.

‘I’m deaf,’ she mimed, pointing to herself and her ear then making an x with her fingers. Cyrus’s eyes widened in understanding as he responded.

‘I know sign language,’ he signed. ‘My name is Cyrus.’

‘Libby.’

‘Nice to meet you, Libby. Sorry again!’

‘Don’t worry about it. Nice to meet you too!’ With that and a quick wave goodbye, they parted ways.

“God, Cyrus. Half an hour and you knock over an innocent girl,” he mumbled to himself, wandering into an aisle.

He scooped up approximately enough snacks to fill a football field, carrying them up to the counter. He spent the entire time walking across the store carefully avoiding bumping into anyone else, sidestepping out of the way far too soon every time he even saw another person.

Miraculously, he managed to find his way to the counter without harming anyone, a fact he relished in as he handed the cashier his card.

“Subaru on 9?” he asked, looking Cyrus up and down with a shy smile.

“Uh, Range Rover on 8, actually,” Cyrus corrected.

“Oh! Sorry, 9 was the last person I rang up. Sorry, sorry.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it… Gus,” he said, reading off of the cashier’s name tag. “I knocked over a girl on my way in here, I think we’re about even here.”

“Fair enough,” Gus chuckled, handing Cyrus his card and bag. “Have a good day!”

“You too,” Cyrus smiled.

Turning toward the doors as a display caught his eye. A cardboard cutout of Neil Patrick Harris proudly stood next to a stand of Heinekens, his arms crossed. He narrowed his eyes at it, grinning slightly.

“What’s up?” Gus asked, turning to Cyrus.

“I’ll give you 20 for NPH,” Cyrus said.

“What? It- it’s not… It’s not for sale, though?”

“This is a store, though. Everything’s worth something, right? 20.”

“... Alright, Range Rover. You can have him for 25.”

“Deal,” Cyrus exclaimed, handing the cashier 25 dollars and wrapping an arm around Neil Patrick Harris’s cardboard hips. “Have a good one, Subaru.”

He stepped out of the gas station, ignoring the looks he got as he crossed the parking lot and propped up NPH in the back seat. He decided it was probably the best company he was going to get. As he pulled out of the parking lot, his phone started ringing incessantly. He absentmindedly answered it, connecting it to Bluetooth as Iris started talking.

“Hey, sorry to bother you-”

“You’re not a bother, Iris,” Cyrus interrupted with a chuckle.

“Yeah yeah, whatever. Anyway, did you borrow that copy of Tolstoy? I can’t find it and I, uh, feel like reading… Swann’s Way?”

“Iris, I gave that back three days ago. And you hated Swann’s Way?”

“I feel like giving it another try?” Iris lied, voice audibly cracking.

“No, you don’t.”

“I really don’t,” Iris agreed.

“You miss me, don’t you?”

“No… I...” Iris said, voice thick with guilt.

“You miss me!” Cyrus cooed, pulling onto the highway with a small smile.

“You knew I would, Cy,” Iris said softly. “I’m just… I don’t know. Sad? Nostalgic? I don’t know the word, but I guess I’m just realizing you’re gonna be completely fine without me when we go off to school.”

“What makes you think I can live without you, Goodall? I need you by my side, no matter what.”

“Then that’s where I’ll be. No matter what.”

“I love you, Goodall. Now, why’d you really call?”

“Because I miss you?” Iris tried weakly.

“Iris Elizabeth Goodall. I know you better than anyone. What’s going on?”

Iris’ voice trembled, as if she had been crying for a while, something that Cyrus hadn’t noticed before. She scraped her throat and coughed. “I don’t want to alarm you.”

“Iris, you’re scaring me,” Cyrus said, turning on his hazard lights and pulling over, “I need you to tell me what’s going on, please.”

“Lucas got into an accident.” She was silent for a while. Cyrus could almost visualize her trying to force her mouth to form the words swirling in her head. He looked out over the road with a blank stare, bracing himself for what he somehow knew Iris was trying to say, “He… He didn’t make it, Cyrus.”

“I’m coming home.” Cyrus’s voice was firm as he reached for his blinkers.

“No! Cyrus, you need to go. For you.”

“I don’t care what I need, Iris! I’m not driving halfway across the country while my best friend grieves for her little brother.”

“Cyrus, listen to me! Go.” Her voice broke. “I can’t do this if you come back. I can’t know I brought you back home. You’re going to go wherever it is you end up. You’re going to call and text me like a clingy, overly attached girlfriend. I’m gonna stay right here, and you’re gonna go where you’re going. I’ll be just fine.”

“Iris…”

“Cy. Go. This isn’t some sappy final goodbye in a bad rom-com. You’ll be back, and I’ll be right here. It’s fine.”

“Fine. I love you, Iris.”

“Love you more, idiot.”

“Neil Patrick Harris says goodbye,” he said, moving to hang up.

“Neil Patrick Harris? Cyrus what the hell?”

“Talk later!” Cyrus hung up with a grin, ignoring the extensive buzzing coming from his phone as Iris no doubt failed to cease her questioning of Cyrus’s relation to Neil Patrick Harris.

Cyrus put his car in drive, pulling back into traffic and driving for only a few minutes before he pulled back off the road and into a rest area. He rested his forehead on the steering wheel, letting himself melt into his indecipherable whirl of emotions.

He felt his throat closing up, panic rising as if it was vomit trying to find its way out, as he remembered countless evenings spent on the couch with Iris and Lucas, watching cartoons until he had to go to bed. He remembered being there with Iris when he learned how to ride a bike. He remembered laughing with Iris under the covers after her mother had berated them for teaching Lucas to say ‘Fuck’. Hell, he remembered Lucas’ birth, holding Iris’ hand in the hospital. And now he was dead.

A memory of Lucas blowing out the candles on Iris’ birthday cake popped into his head, and he felt a laugh bubble up in his gut, mixing with the tears and his ragged, fast breaths. He wiped the tears from his face, the snot from his nose, pressing his forehead as hard into the steering wheel as he could, trying to make sense of the pain, heaving sobs making his rib cage hurt. It all hurt.

“Siri, call mom,” he said, voice raspy. His phone chimed as it processed his request, already dialing as he picked it up.

“Cyrus? Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure, “I’m fine. Just wanted… I don’t know, I wanted to talk.”

“Honey, what’s wrong? You don’t sound fine.”

_You don’t sound fine was posed as a question_ , Cyrus thought. As if it was up to him to decide if he was fine. He felt lightyears from fine.

“Has… Uh... Have you heard from the Goodalls at all?”

“No, I don’t think I’ve heard from them since your graduation.”

“Alright,” Cyrus said, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes, “anyway… I just wanted to say that I love you.”

“I love you too, Cyrus. Are you sure you’re fine?”

_No._

“Yeah, I just wanted to hear your voice for a bit. I think I’m a bit homesick, maybe.”

“You can come home anytime you want, you know that right?”

“I can’t come home yet, I have half a ton of snacks to work through.”

His mom laughed, “They better be healthy snacks!”

Cyrus forced his mouth into a smile. “They’re not.”

“Well, I need to go back to work,” she said, sounding sad, “but we’ll talk some more tonight, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” he took his hands from his eyes, looking up at the road, feeling like the world was too bright. It was as if the bright blue of the sky, the sun hitting his face and the vibrant colors of the cars speeding by were doing it to mock him. “I love you, bye.”

“Love you!”

His car radio started up automatically after the call ended, playing a new pop song Cyrus didn’t know. He listened to it for a couple of seconds, determined it was shit and turned the radio off altogether, reveling in the silence, even though silence was relative, being parked near a busy road.

The silence eventually began to weigh upon his shoulders, compressing him into his seat. He gave in after a few seconds, plugging his phone into the aux cord and putting on the first playlist he found on his account.

“Alright, that’s how this is,” he mumbled as “I’m Gonna Be” shuffled on. He put the car into drive, turning out of the rest area and back onto the highway with a sigh. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, letting his head bob along to the music as he drove.

After nearly five hours of driving, he figured it’d be a good time to take a break. Cyrus pulled off the interstate and into Lincoln, Nebraska.

“Well, then. Another corn and soybean state,” he grumbled, pulling into a gas station and reaching for his phone. He stepped out of the car, putting the gas pump into his car and absentmindedly scrolling through hotel listings nearby. He settled on a 5-star hotel, booking a room for the night. The click of the gas pump alerted him to pull it out. Finalizing his reservation at the hotel, he pocketed the phone and stepped into the gas station.

Cyrus grabbed several snacks and a bottle of water, plopping them onto the counter with a smile at the attendant, a boy about his age. “I have the Range Rover on 3, too.”

“Okay, that’ll be-”

“Walker!” Two other boys their age toppled into the otherwise empty gas station. “The car on pump 3 has a cardboard cutout of NPH in the back seat!” Walker looked back to Cyrus with a raised eyebrow.

“...I can explain?” Cyrus offered.

“You’re NPH guy?” one of the boys asked, clapping Cyrus on the back.

“I’m Cyrus, actually. NPH is just a friend,” Cyrus joked, shaking their hands.

“Marty.”

“Jonah,” the other said. “You have Iowa plates. Are you staying here or passing through?”

“Both? I’ll probably stick around for a day or two.”

Jonah flashed him a sunny smile that was so infectious that Cyrus couldn’t help but smile back.

“Are you visiting someone here? Family?”

“No, I’m on a road trip,” Cyrus said, his stomach choosing that moment to rumble embarrassingly loudly. He handed his card over to Walker to pay for his things. “I should probably go find lunch.”

“We were just picking Walker up to go for lunch,” Marty said. “Do you want to join us?”

“Oh, are you sure? I wouldn’t want to-”

“Nonsense, just come with us. We could show you around a bit, have some fun!” Marty said, and Cyrus couldn’t help but accept the offer. They’d probably know better lunch spots in Lincoln anyway and Cyrus wouldn’t have to eat a sandwich out of his car. Double win.

“I- okay!”

“Alright, then. I just have to run to the bathroom first.” Marty held out his hand for the key from Walker.

“You peed like, right before we left your house,” Jonah said, looking back and forth between Walker and Marty, who both facepalmed.

“Jonah, we’ve been over this,” Walker said.

“I’m gonna say it real slow so you get what I’m saying,” Marty said. “I, Marty, your best friend you’ve known since you were five, cannot wear my binder for almost six hours straight without needing to fix it.”

“Oh! Right.” Jonah nodded in understanding, watching Marty leave for the bathroom. Cyrus held his hand to his mouth, trying to suppress the snicker threatening to get out.

“You can laugh at him,” Walker said, coming out from behind the counter. “We do, anyway.”

“Hey!” Jonah exclaimed. “It’s not my fault I’m a disaster,” he pouted, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s fair,” Cyrus said with a shrug.

“Alright nerds, let’s go,” Marty said, tossing Walker the bathroom key.

“Where, exactly, are we going?”

“Our favorite diner’s a few miles away,” Walker said. “You cool with driving?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I call sitting with NPH!” Jonah and Marty exclaimed at the same time, already running across the parking lot.

“I guess I’ll sit up front, then,” Walker laughed, nodding to his coworker as he left the building. Cyrus grinned, unlocking the car. They all scrambled into the car, Marty and Jonah immediately wrestling over NPH.

“Hey, be nice to him!” Cyrus exclaimed, looking in the mirror at them. “He’s innocent! Now where are we going?”

“Take a left up here,” Walker said, pointing to an intersection. And then it’s on the left after a couple miles.” Cyrus nodded, taking a left.

“So, how did you come across NPH, Cyrus?” Jonah asked.

“He was in a gas station, selling Heinekens.”

“Impressive, for cardboard,” Marty said.

“Well, he’s got that winning smile, you know,” Cyrus responded.

“Naturally,” Walker nodded, pointing to the diner up ahead. Cyrus pulled into the parking lot.

“Ah, the famous diner,” Cyrus said.

“Actually, it’s called the Hi-Way Diner,” Jonah corrected.

“Not the point, Jo,” Marty said.

“Hm? Ohh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay! Let’s go inside, please,” Walker interrupted. Cyrus giggled slightly as he watched Marty and Jonah both dramatically blow kisses to the cardboard cutout before sliding out of the car.

“You three are ridiculous,” Cyrus said, following them into the diner.

“Your usual table, boys?” a waitress asked. They nodded, sitting down in a nearby booth. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Um, ice water for everyone and I’ll take an iced tea,” Walker said.

“Orange juice,” Marty said.

“Um, root beer?” Jonah asked.

“Coffee, please,” Cyrus said.

“Cream and sugar?”

“No thank you.”

“Alright, I’ll be back with that to take your order in a few.”

“So, where are you staying, Cyrus?” Marty asked, toying with the condiment bottles.

“Uh, a Best Western Plus?”

“Wait- seriously? Isn’t that like a five-star hotel?”

“I was taught to buy the best!” he defended, looking over the menu before settling on what he wanted.

“Oh I have to see this,” Walker said.

“You can all come see when I check in after lunch,” Cyrus laughed as their drinks were laid on the table. “Thanks!”

“You three want your usuals?” the waitress asked, looking to Jonah, Walker, and Marty.

“Always,” they said in unison.

“And you, new boy?”

“French dip,” Cyrus laughed, handing her his menu.

“Thanks, Karen,” Walker said.

“You three tip well, so I don’t mind dealing with you.”

They chatted mindlessly as they waited for their food, sipping at their drinks as Cyrus was berated with questions about his life. They laughed over his stories about Iris and poked fun at him when he mentioned how badly he’d failed at coming out to her. As Cyrus fruitlessly attempted to defend himself, Karen slid their meals in front of them on the table.

“Marty, you’re not allowed to make fun of him,” she said casually. “You were so scared to tell people your name and pronouns when you first transitioned that you handed everyone cards when you saw them. They said ‘it’s a boy’ on them, and you wrote ‘named Marty’ underneath.”

“You didn’t!” Cyrus exclaimed, playfully throwing a salt packet at him.

“You told Iris after dating and kissing her!” Marty insisted.

“You basically threw yourself a gender reveal party, hush,” Cyrus said.

“Yeah, I’m with Cyrus on this one,” Jonah said.

“Thank you!”

“Enjoy your food, boys,” Karen said, patting Cyrus on the shoulder. They all grinned as she walked away, putting aside the argument to eat, or more realistically devour, their food.

“...I still think my way was less-”

“Marty!” Walker interrupted, swatting at his friend.

“Sorry.”

“Alright, agree to disagree,” Cyrus proposed, holding out his hand to shake Marty’s.

“Truce.” They both nodded, then went back to eating.

“So, Cyrus, do you have a boyfriend back home?” Jonah asked, clearly desperate to change the topic.

“Ah, no. I just graduated and I just didn’t have time for dating in school.”

“...Seriously?” Jonah asked.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Always Needs A Girlfriend Or He Might Die,” Walker said.

“That was in the 8th grade!” Jonah defended.

“I had one boyfriend,” Cyrus said. “Also in the 8th grade.”

“You haven’t dated in four years?” Marty asked.

“I didn’t have time!” he protested. Jonah, Marty, and Walker all facepalmed, groaning loudly.

“Okay, we have to find you a guy.”

“You really don’t have to do that. Considering the fact that I live a whole five hours away, I don’t need a boyfriend from Nebraska.”

“I respect that,” Walker said. “New rule: you have to kiss at least one guy on this trip of yours.”

“Okay, fine. I will. But I can’t promise it’ll be here.”

“Fair enough, give me your phone,” Walker said, quickly typing his number in. “Text me when you do, and send me a picture of him so I know you’re not lying.”

“Okay, then. Deal.”

“We all done eating?” Jonah asked, looking around.

“Let me cover the bill,” Cyrus said, pulling money out of his pocket.

“No, we can split it!” Walker said.

“I’m paying,” Cyrus insisted, scooping up the bill and rushing to the counter to pay. He beat Walker to it, paying with a smile and a tongue stuck out over his shoulder. “Ha!”

“You’re awful at this,” Walker said.

“...Yeah, I know.”

“Walker, stop protesting,” Marty said, stuffing the last bit of his sandwich in his mouth. “We have no fucking money.”

“...I’ll take it,” Walker said slowly. “But for the record, I’d like to know if your mom taught you any manners at all, Marty.”

“She didn’t,” Jonah said. “You grew up with him too, you know this.”

“She did!” Marty defended himself, and his mom, “but she also taught me to never say no to a free lunch.”

“I respect your mother,” Cyrus said, tossing and catching his keys. “Shall we? I seem to remember you three freaking out over a five-star hotel.”

“Question: did you get NPH his own bed?”

“No, Jonah. I did not,” Cyrus said, raising his eyebrows, “but he can always get one if he asks nicely.”

“Did you just offer to get a big piece of fucking cardboard a bed?” Marty asked.

“Shush! I said it to make him happy,” he hissed, pulling onto the road.

Jonah tapped him on the shoulder and Cyrus hummed to acknowledge him without having to look at him, as people had apparently forgotten how to drive in the short amount of time he had been inside to eat. “What?”

“You should ask the hotel to give you something.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Cyrus said, flashing him a brief look in his rearview mirror, “They already provide me with a place to stay, and goods and services.”

“Yes, but you deserve something more.”

“Like what?” Cyrus asked.

“...A doll?” Jonah offered.

“ _A doll_ ? Do you think it’s a good idea to walk in with a cardboard cutout and walk out with that _and_ a doll?”

Jonah shrugged, looking at both Walker and Marty for approval. “Quite frankly? Yes I do.”

Cyrus groaned heavily, blinking at Jonah in the mirror. “Okay, fine. But if the doll is cursed, you are taking it home.”

“Fine,” Jonah huffed. Cyrus rolled his eyes fondly, merging right and praying Jonah wouldn’t ask for anything else.

They drove quietly for a few minutes, Cyrus keeping his eyes on the road. “Here, put on some music,” he said, handing his phone to Walker, who grinned mischievously. Before Cyrus could ask, an all too familiar riff was blasting through the car.

“No way!” Cyrus exclaimed, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and bopping his head to the beat of the song. They all dramatically danced to the riff, waiting for the lyrics to begin.

“RISING UP,” Marty exclaimed. “Back on the street.” They all sang along, all terribly off-key and far too loud. Cyrus eventually pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, turning off the music.

“Here we are,” he said, looking up at the hotel.

“This place definitely looks rich,” Jonah said, looking back, “suddenly I’m not so sure if you should walk in with NPH.”

“Of course he should,” Marty protested, “what are they going to do? Kick him out for bringing some cardboard?”

“I mean, come on. Just because he knows how to make a damn entrance, that doesn’t mean they could do anything about it!” Walker added.

“NPH is coming with,” Cyrus said, getting out of the car and pulling out the cutout to prove his point. “And I will also be asking for a gift.”

“Nice,” Marty said with a grin. “Here, you take Neil, I’ll take your bag.”

“How chivalrous,” Cyrus said, pretending to swoon.

“Truly,” Marty smiled, stooping to kiss Cyrus’s hand. They all walked inside, smiling to the man at the front desk.

“Hi, I have a room under ‘Goodman’?” Cyrus said.

“Um, yes. Here we go. One king bed?”

“Yep!”

“Alright, I just need an ID and a card for incidentals,” the man said with a smile. Cyrus nodded, setting down NPH to pull out his wallet.

“Here you go.” The man glanced at his ID, then swiped his card.

“And… You’re all set in room 923. Check-out is at 1 tomorrow, and breakfast is from 7-11.”

“Thank you!” Cyrus exclaimed, starting to walk away before backing up. “Oh, um… One more thing.” He looked at Jonah, who was holding up both of his thumbs, “I was wondering if I could get a doll or something?”

“A doll? Sir, I don’t know if we can accommodate that request. Unless… Hang on one moment.” He disappeared into a room behind the desk before reappearing holding a Pikachu plushie. “Will this suffice, Sir? Someone left it in a room months ago and never reclaimed it.”

“Ooh, Pikachu!” Jonah said, clapping his hands like a five-year-old and making grabby hands at it.

“Thank you, it’s great,” Cyrus said, taking the Pikachu from the receptionist and handing it to Jonah. “Please disregard my seventeen-year-old friend. And my cardboard cutout of Neil Patrick Harris. And my other seventeen-year-old friend, who is currently cuddling it.” Marty and Jonah stuck out their tongues, arms wrapped around their respective objects.

“Seventeen-year-old toddlers,” Walker muttered under his breath, making Cyrus laugh under his breath.

“Have a great stay,” the man said, winking at Jonah and pointing to the elevators.

“Thank you so much!” Cyrus tugged them into an elevator, pressing the button for the ninth floor. “I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life.”

“That’s life, baby,” Jonah said, cuddling his new plushie to his chest, “I’m keeping this.”

“I assumed as much,” Cyrus said, holding up a finger when Marty opened his mouth. “No. NPH is mine.”

“I had to try.”

“I commend you for your efforts, but you should’ve realized it wasn’t going to happen from the moment you saw it in my car.”

“Marty isn’t really great at realizing things,” Walker said, “I’ve known him for at least ten years and he has realized maybe… three things.”

Marty shoved Walker into the side of the elevator, just when it reached the fifth floor, and it opened to reveal a small old lady. She looked over at the boys, holding a plushie and a giant cardboard cutout and smiled a little at Cyrus, letting the elevator doors close again.

“I have certainly realized at least four things!” Marty insisted.

“Name them,” Walker challenged.

“I realized I was trans.” Marty said, counting on his fingers, “I realized that Jonah stole my pencil case in fifth grade.”

“And?” Walker said, motioning with his hand for Marty to get on with it.

“I realized Santa wasn’t real!”

“Doesn’t count, I told you that,” Jonah interrupted.

“I realized you’re both awful friends,” Marty huffed, crossing his arms as the elevator reached the ninth floor.

Walker gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder, “And that makes three things. Congrats, buddy.”

“Oh my goodness, you three are ridiculous,” Cyrus mumbled, stopping in front of his room and swiping his key card, pushing the door open with his shoulder. “Oh, this is a nice room!”

“That’s such a rich kid thing to say,” Jonah said, hugging his Pikachu tightly, “your bathroom is bigger than my last bedroom.”

“Last bedroom?” Cyrus asked.

“Yeah. I’m kind of… In between housing arrangements, currently.”

“Well, if you want to crash here tonight, you’re welcome to.” Cyrus flopped onto the bed on his back, cocooning into the blankets. “Oh I am so going to sleep early tonight.”

“Seriously?” Jonah asked.

“Yeah, I’ve been driving for like six hours.”

“No, I meant about staying here,” Jonah said.

“Oh, for sure! There’s a huge couch over there, I think it might actually be a pull-out.” Cyrus gestured vaguely to his left. Jonah pulled off the cushions, before pulling out the frame and mattress.

“Cool,” he said, sitting down on it and sighing. “This hotel is so nice, this couch is more comfortable than the last actual bed I slept on.”

“Linens are probably in the closet,” Cyrus said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. Walker pulled down a folded set of sheets, a comforter, and two pillows, tossing them at Jonah.

“Are you sure I can stay here with you? I mean, what if I was a murderer? Or- or a thief? Or a kidnapper?!”

“Are you any of those things?” Cyrus asked, shooing Jonah off the couch to make his bed.

“No!”

“Excuse me if I find it very hard to be scared of you after I’ve seen you fawning over a Pikachu plushie for ten straight minutes.”

“Thanks, then. Seriously,” Jonah said with another sunny grin.

“No problem, man.” Cyrus smiled back, spreading out his blankets and throwing his pillows on top. Jonah immediately laid down, sighing into the fluffy pillows and making himself comfortable. “I feel like I’m lying on a cloud.”

“You good, Jonah?” Walker asked, poking Jonah in the calf.

“I’m great. Never better, man.”

“Is he suddenly incredibly stoned or is it just me?” Marty asked, looking at Jonah’s shapeless form, wrapped in blankets.

“I’m high on life, man,” Jonah drawled, putting on a hippie accent with a grin.

“Oh my God just go to sleep,” Walker said, pulling the blankets all the way over his body and tucking him in. Jonah sighed contentedly, snuggling into bed and wrapping his arms around Pikachu as he fell asleep.

“He falls asleep so fast!” Cyrus whispered in amazement.

“It’s his superpower,” Marty said with a shrug, flopping loudly onto the bed.

“Hush!” Cyrus exclaimed. “You’ll wake him!”

“Nah, he sleeps like a rock,” Walker assured him, mirroring Marty’s actions.

“Mph,” Jonah said in his sleep, as if to prove their point.

“Thank you for your commentary,” Marty said to his sleeping best friend. “But no observation from the peanut gallery.”

***

Cyrus glanced at Jonah, still sound asleep on the couch as he pulled out his phone and turned out the lights. It had been quite a hassle to get Marty and Walker out of the door, but he promised the could eat hotel breakfast when they came to get Jonah at checkout.

He turned around to crawl into bed and proceeded to jump nearly out of his skin at the shadowy outline of Neil Patrick Harris standing by the window.

“How the fuck did I think placing him in front of the window was a good idea?” Cyrus muttered to himself, getting snuggly under the covers and opening up his messages with Iris.

He looked at them for a while, not typing, remembering that when he had a fun day with friends, she had been suffering with grief and decided to call. She didn’t pick up.

 

**Iris 💞💕**

Hey

It must’ve been a shitty day for you

Just wanted to let you know i’ve arrived in Lincoln

Actually made some friends

One of them is sleeping on my sofa right now  
I love you

Call me whenever

I’ll stop septuple texting now

Octuple?

damn

❤

Love u

Also NPH?!

Cyrus plugged his phone in and turned to lie down on his side. He listened to Jonah’s soft breathing for a while, wondering how he could’ve made three friends in a couple of hours when he had previously made just one in what felt like a lifetime.

He smiled involuntarily. Even though it had been a very heavy day, something told him that what he had just found in Lincoln was something to hold onto.

 

***

“Come on, Jonah! Up!”

“Hmm…”

Cyrus poked him in the cheek, “Breakfast, Jonah!”

Jonah didn’t respond, but simply rolled over, which made Cyrus resort to drastic measures. He grabbed the duvet and yanked it off the bed. “Breakfast, now!”

“Good god man, what time is it?”

“Nine-thirty! We only have until eleven to eat!”

“Ugh, fine,” Jonah grumbled, rolling out of bed and faceplanting on the floor.

“You know what, I’ll take it. You’re out of bed,” Cyrus said with a shrug.

Jonah stood up and brushed some dust off of his clothes, “Breakfast better be good.”

“It’s hotel breakfast, so…” Cyrus said, stretching his arms. Jonah’s face visibly fell before he grinned again.

“But it’s five-star hotel breakfast!”

“I- yeah, it is, I guess.”

“Let’s go.” They took the elevator down to the lobby and met Walker and Marty, who were sitting together on a bench, waiting for them like obedient puppies.

“Alright weirdos, let’s eat,” Cyrus said, ignoring the raised eyebrow he got from a worker as they walked toward the tables.

“Dude!” Marty said, walking over to the buffet with wide eyes, “They have waffles!”

“Glad that you like it,” Cyrus said, watching Marty load up his plate.

“You don’t understand, Cyrus,” Marty whined, showing him his plate, “they have _chocolate chip_ waffles!”

Cyrus smiled at him and grabbed a bowl, filling it with yogurt and fresh fruit and filled a glass of orange juice up from the dispensers.

“Dude, this is like, really good breakfast,” Jonah whispered to Cyrus, holding his plate like he was holding something precious.

“Five stars, I guess,” Cyrus smiled back, carefully scooping some scrambled eggs onto his plate. Walker grinned at their antics, filling his plate and turning to sit down.

They ate quickly, though they stayed for nearly an hour, each returning for seconds, then thirds, and some for fourths and fifths.

Cyrus dragged his suitcase with one hand and held NPH under the other arm when he walked to his car after checkout. He carefully laid the suitcase down in his trunk, propping up NPH in his backseat.

“Alright, where am I driving you three?” he asked, turning to face his friends.

“Nowhere, my mom’s driving us,” Marty said, gesturing to a car.

“Oh,” Cyrus said, smiling sadly. He hadn’t been expecting to say goodbye just yet. “C’mere.” He hugged them each in turn, kissing Pikachu’s head.

“Text me,” Walker said sternly. “I gave them both your number, too. I mean it. I’m making a group chat.”

“I will,” Cyrus laughed, giving Walker a squeeze on the shoulder.

“And kiss some guy,” Marty said.

“Okay, I promise. You three have to kiss someone too, though,” he insisted. Jonah grinned, leaning forward and kissing Cyrus quickly.

“Done!”

“Does that count for me too?” Cyrus asked, looking to Walker.

“No!”

“Damn.”

Walker laughed and lightly kicked Cyrus against his butt, “Now go. Be on your merry little way. Explore the world.”

“We’re going to miss you,” Jonah said, smiling, and coming back in for a last hug, before he ran after the others to Marty’s mom’s car. “Promise you’ll text!”

“I promise!” Cyrus called, climbing into his car and waving goodbye as he passed them, briefly catching a look at NPH in the backseat. “And then there were two.”


End file.
